Growing up in Florida, I always longed to live somewhere that changed with the seasons. I remember looking through my mom's Better Homes and Gardens magazines and dreaming of watching the leaves change or waking up to a white Christmas. Florida even had me fooled into thinking that winter was my favorite season (because winter in Florida is equivalent to spring and fall in other areas of the country!).
Now that I live somewhere with distinct (albeit mild) seasons, there are certain things that capture my attention each year, and even more so now during the Covid 19 pandemic where we are primarily at home. Winter seems to drag on forever once Christmas is over. February may very well be the shortest month of the year but the days feel longer than all the others. Spring creeps in slowly but makes a bold entrance. One day everything is brown and barren, and the next day you notice a few small leaves on the tree in your front yard that seem to have appeared overnight. Have those always been there? A week later and the azaleas are in full bloom. Was that bush there last year? After a series of warm days and some inevitable rain, everything is alive again. (We already have birds building their nests in our ferns out front this year.) You try to ignore the pollen all over your car and pray that the mild weather sticks around for awhile so that you can spend every second possible outside. Summer rolls in with more sunshine and heat. It's all fun and games in June and July but by August you wonder if you will ever get a break from the scorching temperatures and, in my case, constant sunburns. Is it fall yet?! Pumpkin spice lattes are out at Starbucks... it has to be soon! Another month (or 3) and you finally walk outside to feel that first crisp morning. Even the smell is different. You emerge from your air conditioned cocoon and can stand outside without instantly sweating once more. The hustle and bustle of the holidays is approaching and now there are only 18 hours in a day, it seems. These days can't possibly be the same length as the ones in February!
Motherhood, I'm learning, is full of seasons too. One day you're groggy eyed, holding that 6 week old bundle of joy wondering if you will ever sleep more than 2 consecutive hours again. Then, finally, you can leave the house without having to pack 10 bottles but now you're potty training that strong willed two year old and swearing out loud that if he pees on the carpet one more time you are replacing it using money from his college fund. Somewhere along the way you gain some confidence and think, "I could do this again!" and you bring home a sweet sibling. Any semblance of structure you created goes out the window, along with several of those "my child will never..." declarations you made before having kids of your own.
There are days when I just can't wait for both or our kids to be able to make themselves a sandwich on their own. I dream of the day when I can send them upstairs to get ready for bed and not end up half soaked in the shower myself. I imagine having an actual , uninterrupted conversation with Hunter while they entertain themselves. And for the love of all that is holy, will they ever not take 20 minutes to get their shoes on when we are in a hurry to leave?!
But then I look back at their squishy newborn pictures. How have they grown so much already? I can't possibly have a son who will be five in a few short months; I just brought him home from the hospital! I pull an old onesie from Nora's dresser and realize that it's too small for her and there are no more onesies left- she wears toddler sizes now. Why didn't Sawyer tell me years ago that was the last night I was going to rock him to sleep, watching his tiny fingers grab on to my shirt. Surely I would have savored that moment more. I hear them in the playroom and realize that they're actually playing together; they've created their own little pretend world and I didn't even have to coordinate it.
As moms, we know that our babies won't be babies for long, but it's hard to imagine springtime when you're trying to survive the winter. There are many days I wonder why their little personalities challenge me so much. Maybe I'm not cut out for this gig. Can I really survive another tantrum? On these days, in these moments, I am trying to remind myself that this is a season. One day they will want to play with a friend instead of making felt sandwiches for me in their playroom. They won't need my help tying their shoes or buckling them into the car. Eventually my sliding doors won't be covered in greasy little handprints and I'll get to take a shower without someone barging into the bathroom. I won't find a stray car or crayon under the coffee table, and I'm going to miss it. As exhausting and overwhelming as this season feels sometimes, I will miss it. So while I dream of the future, I am going to try and take the time to appreciate this precious season that I am in right now- the chaos, the messes, the noise... all of it. Before I know it, it will be summer and I'll be wondering how spring passed so quickly right before my eyes.
